


but he slayed me

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 13:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10663878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: As long as Genji can keep staring at him as McCree’s eyes are set on Winston – actually listens, unlike Genji; eyes alert on their new leader and furiously scribbling down ideas into the small notepad in front of him – Genji doesn’t mind being stuck in a plain white room in Watchpoint: Who-Knows-Where.





	but he slayed me

Face plate taken off and placed on the table in front of him, Genji twirls his pen in his hands. He throws a glass across the table, certain no one will notice. And another one, when the first one wasn’t enough. He suspects that, if he continues to do this, one day he’ll be caught – but the worry of his crush being exposed is outweighed heavily by the _need_ to look upon his target just one more time.

Winston’s voice is a constant murmur in the background. A word here and there sticks to Genji’s brain, but the bulk of it travels through his brain without a single new connection between nerves having been made. The entire thing: this morning, the meeting, Winston’s speech, it all would’ve been a waste of time, but—

Well, McCree’s in the meeting too. As long as Genji can keep staring at him as McCree’s eyes are set on Winston – _actually_ listens, unlike Genji; eyes alert on their new leader and furiously scribbling down ideas into the small notepad in front of him – Genji doesn’t mind being stuck in a plain white room in Watchpoint: Who-Knows-Where. Time isn’t passing fast, by any means, but it’s not passing slowly either, occupied as Genji is.

He twirls the pen some more, and considers writing some words down on his paper just to have it done. The idea doesn’t interest him. Instead, Genji looks around the room – acting as if _this_ is what he’s been doing for the past thirty-five minutes instead of staring longingly at a certain cowboy – and catches Hanzo’s eyes.

Their relationship is as good as mended now, every day bringing them closer to the brotherly relationship they had _Before_. They’re close enough again that, when Hanzo’s lips hints at a smile, and he slowly blinks at Genji, Genji _knows_. Knows that Hanzo knows: about that Genji is trying to do, acting all innocent; about the fact that he hasn’t listened to Winston for longer than a minute, total; about who Genji’s thinking about.

Genji has half a mind to stick his middle finger up to Hanzo to wipe the smug expression away from Hanzo’s face. But the action would be too obvious for the rest of the room to realize neither brother was listening. So Genji ends up narrowing his eyes in an attempt to look pissed off; his mouth, however, are drawn into a small smile on their own accord, and he can feel the blood tingling at his cheeks.

Someone moves, and Genji thinks they’ve been caught – but no. It’s only Tracer, stretching her restless limbs and attentively listening to what Winston is saying. Genji, in no need of yet another stern telling of, _‘You need to listen to the meetings so we can act like a_ team _, Genji,’_ from Ana, turns his head towards Winston again in yet another attempt to focus.

It’s a good thing that McCree is sat close to where Winston is, because Genji finds his eyes wandering no matter how much he tries to resist.

* * *

“So,” Winston says, putting a hand on Genji’s shoulder from behind. Genji dislikes the feeling – haven’t gotten used to his new body no matter the years he’s been in it – but doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even flinch. “What did you think of today’s meeting?”

Genji thinks he’s being spoken to, and he’s about to answer with a made-up comment about how well it went when the person Winston is actually facing answers.

“Well, you know,” the voice says, and Genji knows without a doubt – would know forever, in every situation – that it’s McCree speaking, though his voice is softer than what Genji usually hears coming from him. “Had a hard time focusing, got a bit distracted a few times, but that I heard wasn’t all too bad.”

“Do you want the protocol sent to your computer?” Winston asks.

McCree nods, Genji knows, even though he’s turned halfway away from them. “That would be great, General.”

Winston lets go of Genji’s shoulder, but he beckons Genji to join the conversation instead. “So, what do you think of the mission you’ve been given?”

He’s definitely talking to Genji now – and Genji panics.

“Well,” he starts, clearing his throat to buy some time. He’s usually good at picking up conversations where his name had been uttered, but it must have slipped by him today. He looks at McCree. Back at Winston; Winston’s still waiting for a reply, but he doesn’t look impatient.

 _Yet_.

At last, Genji manages to spit out, “It sounded great,” and if either of them heard the confusion in his voice, neither mentioned it.

Instead, he sees the smile form on Winston’s face. Good, he’s in the clear.

“That’s nice to hear,” Winston says. “I was certain you’d find it at least interesting, ninja background as you have.” He turns to McCree, and Genji does the same – all to get out of the spotlight. “You too, of course, or else I wouldn’t send the two of you.”

Genji swallows. Both of them? _He and McCree_ , going on a mission together? But—

Winston continues through Genji’s inner conflict. “And I was thinking you could take one of the R-models this time, too. I know you’ve always fancied them.”

Genji’s thoughts are interrupted by McCree laughing. “You know me too well, General,” he huffs out. Genji dares to sneak a glance only to find McCree looking at him – _at him_ , right in the eyes, focus not even being near Winston – with the smallest of smiles he has probably ever sported. “Y’all know too well I like fast cars and faster men.” His smile widens slightly as Winston chuckles beside them.

Though Genji’s mind is a mess, he manages to pick up the face plate from the table and put it on to hide the blush on his face. As he walks away, limbs far too stiff to seem natural even with his artificial limbs, Genji thinks: _This can’t be happening._

He thinks: _In front of the someone?_

He thinks: _Did McCree just flirt with me?_

* * *

“Why do you think he said that?”

Hanzo looks up from his dinner; a tray of vegetables and roots, unidentified protein and a bread roll on the side. Genji sports a tray of equal components in front of him. “What are you talking about?” Hanzo asks.

They’re speaking in Japanese, and Genji’s sure no one’s listening to them anyways – yet, he goes out of his way not to mention any names, lest the names would be understood by their colleagues sitting around them. “You were in the same room as it happened. You know what the hat man said.”

Hanzo snorts around a bite of food. “Hat man?”

“Beard fellow, gun guy, Hanzo, _you know who I am talking about_.” Genji throws up his hands in the air.

Hanzo takes another bite of his food, then says, “You mean McCree.” The name doesn’t come out the way he usually says it; having spoken Japanese for the duration of the dinner, the pronunciations is leaning towards their native language rather than the English version.

McCree shouldn’t be able to understand, but Genji throws a hand over Hanzo’s mouth anyways halfway through Hanzo uttering his name.

McCree, against all odds, understands.

McCree, with a shit eating grin, looks over to them and says, “Y’all talking about me over there?”

Genji wants to die. Hanzo, Genji sees through his shame, can barely keep a straight face, and a gruff or two slip past his badly contained amused face. Eventually, with far too many curious prying eyes upon him – five, no six, no _seven_ – Genji answers with a forced laugh, “No, what makes you think that?”

Hanzo, the bastard, has broken out in a smile. It feels mocking; it _is_ mocking, if Genji knows his brother correctly. He’s loving the situation Genji’s in. Has probably dreamt of the day for months, ever since Genji let it slip that he might have had a slight crush on a certain gruff man in Overwatch.

“Don’t give me that, sweetheart,” McCree says as he’s sliding himself and his tray down next to Genji, sitting just a tiny bit too close. “I know when I hear my name.”

As Genji keeps looking down into his food, he eventually feels less and less pairs of eyes upon him until he can sense only two: Hanzo’s, and McCree’s. 

“So, what were you talking about?”

The food in front of Genji suddenly doesn’t look as appetizing anymore, even though Genji had come into the dining hall on an empty stomach and a ravenous appetite. He’s sure he can sneak his leftovers into the trash – no matter how much the older members of Overwatch hated to see food go to waste – and feign an illness. To get out of there, really. The thought of going to bed on an empty stomach, hurtful as it was, still sounded several times better than to continue sitting next to McCree, having to come up with a convincing lie.

Then Hanzo starts speaking his mind again without thinking beforehand, and Genji supposes his own death might be the best answer to end his suffering.

“My brother was wondering why you were flirting with him earlier today,” Hanzo says, as lightly as if he had been talking about the weather.

Genji doesn’t dare to glance over to McCree, but he’s sure he can hear the amusement in McCree’s voice as he feels McCree lean over to Hanzo to ask, “He took that as flirting, then?”

Hanzo hums. “He did.”

McCree leans back. Genji feels his arms brush against his, and sees from the corner of his eyes that McCree has crossed his arms. “That’s good.”

Genji can’t whip his head towards McCree fast enough. McCree is already looking at him, and when their eyes meet—

“Because I _was_ flirting, you know.”

Genji has McCree’s human wrist in one hand, metal in the other, and he’s dragging McCree out of his seat and out of the hall to the words, “Try not to die, brother!” yelled by Hanzo after them.

* * *

His lips, desperate with need, are pressed firmly against Genji’s. His breath, controlled through his nose, comes out in puffs. His hands, rough and shaking, are on Genji’s hips, moving towards Genji’s back and upwards, planting on his neck to bring Genji’s face in even closer.

Genji realizes that being touched like this, by McCree – both by his metal hand and the one being made out of flesh – is all it takes for Genji to feel at _home_ in his new body. Artificial nerves are on fire, causing Genji to feel every little change in McCree’s body as it shifts against his.

“Wow,” McCree whispers, nose pressed against Genji’s. They’re both panting, sharing what little air is between them; not wanting to separate, they keep closer to one another than is strictly necessary. “If I had known you’d react like this, I would’ve been sure to say something earlier.” He presses a kiss onto Genji’s mouth again, and through the faint tobacco that’s lingering on his skin, Genji can taste the savory food from his unfinished dinner on McCree’s lips. He’s sure McCree can do the same on his.

It doesn’t matter.

McCree continues. “I’d make it my mission, y’know, to make you blush and smile.”

Genji laughs at that. He laughs, and he, by dragging McCree’s head downwards by taking a hold on his neck, whispers into McCree’s ear, “If you shut up right now, we might be able to take this thing further.”

Had Genji not been as high on endorphins and dopamine and _adrenaline_ as he is – nor as horny, because let’s be real, he’s got the hottest cowboy in the world wrapped around his finger – he would’ve laughed at the expression McCree sports.

“Yeah,” McCree moans, and leans into another kiss. “Yeah, I’ll shut up, I will.”

The easiest way to help McCree to fulfill his promise is to kiss him back, harder than before, to wrap a leg around McCree’s

The easiest way to help McCree completely break his promise is to whisper, “Come on, then, let’s go. Jesse,” right into his ear as Genji takes Jesse’s hand to once again drag him out of the room.

“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted this,” Jesse moans.

And Genji thinks, _Brother, I tried my hardest not to die, but he slayed me with a single sentence._


End file.
